Chapter 36 Whispers of Courage
Valencia's POV~
I stood in the bathroom of my room, the warm cascade of the shower hitting me as it poured down over me, steam curling around my shoulders that rose high out of the water. I thought of Stefan, and of his voice from last night, outside of Clara’s home, “Come crash at my place tonight”. The words had taken me by surprise, his eyes holding mine with a heat that awakened something deep.
I smiled, replaying the memory of the way he had stared at my lips, that moment when the air had become charged with the possibility of what could have been. What if I had taken the first move and stepped close, pressing my lips to his, letting the heat from that spark consume us? A shiver ran through me as my fingers traced my lips imagining, how nice he would have tasted kissing and sucking him, but I shook my head, dismissing the thought. Stefan was something else—solid, protective and guarded, but I simply couldn’t indulge myself, not when that fake video from Natasha was still out there, threatening to label me a fraud, and Clawford’s board prepared to strip me of my heritage.
I stepped out of the shower, the bathroom’s cool tiles grounding me, and dressed myself in a fluffy towel. As I stepped into my room, the smell of untouched food — roasted lamb and rosemary potatoes, a plate from Grandmother Rosanna sat on a dresser in my bedroom, the smell of it sweet and just unappetizing. The weight of the past few days—Clara’s rescue, the board’s betrayal, Dmitri’s lies—had snatched my appetite. I pulled on a silk nightdress, the ivory fabric soft against my skin, and sat down on the bed, the darkness in the room offered me a quiet sanctuary. In the span of a few short days, my life had come apart little by little. But Stefan’s face made my heart lighter and his hand brushed mine at dinner.
My phone vibrated on the nightstand, Stefan’s name illuminating the screen. My heart skipped and I picked up, his voice was low and warm. “Valenticia, you okay? Have you eaten?”
The question caught me off guard, his intuition as if he could see the huge portion of food I hadn't yet tried on my plate miles away. “Yes,” I lied, my voice catching — surprised at his tenderness.
We spoke, his calm expression loosening the knot inside me. He wanted to know about my day, and my plans, which sounded strange but sweet as I played along. “You’re terrible at lying,” he added at the end of the call, his voice light. “Eat, Valenticia. You need your strength.”
I smiled, the heat of the tenderness spreading as I hung up. Crossing over to the dresser I picked up the plate, the lamb was tender, the potatoes flavorsome and with each bite, I was staging a small rebellion against my despair. I took slow bites, Stefan’s voice hovering, and when I got back into bed it was with a smile, the first in days.
Morning greeted me with the sunlight peeping through the heavy curtains, and I woke up with that heaviness in my heart, the huge, black weight of Natasha’s schemes bearing down. I opted to remain indoors. Downstairs in the dining room, I sat waiting for my breakfast of poached eggs, toast, and black coffee, the latter serving to quicken my thoughts. A maid, Lena, came in, her apron starched, and carrying in two packages—one small, done up with purple ribbon, and the other, larger, with shining black paper. “For your pleasure, Miss Clawford,” she said, her eyes inquisitive.
I grimaced, my heart racing, all of Natasha’s snare traps flashing through my mind. Before I could reach them, Grandmother Rosanna walked in, “Valencia, stop,” she said, her voice cold. “Not with all that’s going on. Security’s got to check them first.”
Lena hesitated, then spoke. “They are from Mr. Myles, ma’am. Delivered this morning.”
My breath caught.
Grandmother's expression softened, as a smile rarely seen rested on her lips. “In that case,” she said, nodding. “Go on, child.”
I picked up the little silken box, the smooth imprint of the purple ribbon under my fingers, and undid it carefully. Inside, positioned on black velvet, was a ring a stunning piece, with a platinum band twisted in an intricate design. It was flanked by diamonds, and the work spoke of wealth.
My heart skipped.
The big box was given to me next, and I plunged my fingers in and out came a dress -gold, shiny. It had an elegant off-the-shoulder neckline and bodice that gently flared down into the elegant train... perfect for that formal night when you need to shine. Inside the box was a note, Stefan’s handwriting. Wear this tonight as my woman to a ball with me.
Call me.
My face grew hot, the words were bold, possessive, and exciting, bringing back up the memory of his look, his touch.
Rosanna arched an eyebrow, her tone dry. “He’s bold, that one. What’s this ball?”
“I’m not sure,” I confessed, running my fingers over the garment, its softness causing my heart to race.
“Lena, you can,” Rosanna said and the maid went out. The look in my grandmother's eyes softened, and her hand found mine. “Be careful, Valenticia. He’s a good man, but this is a contract. Don’t lose yourself.”
I nodded, her caution a kind of dull resonance of the fear I harbored, but the dress, the ring, Stefan’s note—they were simply something I could not disregard. I carried the packages into my room, where I threw the gown on the bed its gold shining in the room. I pictured it — his hand slipping the ring on my fingers, his eyes meeting mine. With shaky fingers, I dialed his number on my phone, my heart beating like a drum, with both anticipation and fear.
He answered on the second ring, his voice comforting. “The dress should be a perfect fit for you.”